Comatose
by grellthesexyredshinigami
Summary: Harry is unresponsive, and has been for weeks. Nobody knows why, that is, except one person. This is NOT a Luna/Harry fic


A/N: Hey guys, sorry for the lack of explanation. I honestly didn't feel like it needed it, but if any of you think I should add it, review and let me know.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters with in this fic. *Sighs* They belong to J.K. Rowling.

Comatose.

Harry was lying comatose in the white bed, sterile sheets covering his lightly breathing form, making his already pale skin seem ghost-like.

He had been like this for weeks.

Many tried to wake him, Hermione was the first to try. She had leaned over him, crying his name, shaking him, kissing every inch of his face, excluding his mouth. After nearly ten minutes, she was unable to continue due to the force of her sobs. Ron was next. He kneeled next to his first and best friend, and held his hand. Leaning down, he put his forehead upon the slowly rising and falling chest, mumbling something that nobody caught. Later, when asked what was said, he would deny everything.

More tried, Neville waved a wiggling plant in front of his nose, Headmaster Dumbledore cast multiple spells, including Legilimency, upon the young man, Madam Pomphrey tried everything she learned in mediwitch training, Professor Snape brewed multiple potions and force fed them to his school yard nemesis' son, but it was Luna that finally got a reaction.

~o~

She glided into the infirmary with the usually dreamy expression on her face. Her eyes though, told a different story. She was a woman on a mission and would not be afraid to take drastic measures, should anybody get in her way. She sat down on the edge of the bed, grasped the cold hand, and began to chant under her breath in an old, nearly forgotten cant.

Her eyes began to glow, and then they closed and she fell beside the senseless body of her friend.

Slowly, she opened her eyes again. In front of her was a large set of wooden doors, reaching high above her head. She reached out and laid her hand flat against the dark wood, asking silently for entrance. While most would be confused as to where they were, what this place was, Luna was not. She was completely aware of the situation, where she was, and what she was there to do.

_It was a room, a room that does not exist, is only real within the confines of Harry's mind._

_As she walked inside, the first thing she noticed is the far wall. It is so black it glows, with twinkling yellow stars shining upon it. To the right, another wall caught her attention. Emerald green rests with fine, swirling wisps of shimmering silver; she could almost believe the wall was made of emeralds and diamonds. To her left, a tasteful, deep red is checkered with glistening gold and directly behind her where the doorway rests, a dark royal blue lies with bronze stripes resting upon it. In each corner of the room sits a statue on a pedestal. One, an eagle about to take flight. Its determined eyes stared deep into her soul, knowing all with one glance. Another stood a protective badger, glaring at her, almost daring her to take what is his. A third is a brave, prideful lion, its back straight, head held high. The fourth is a great serpent, ready to strike at a moment's notice, ready to use any means to achieve its ends. _

_Looking up, she sees the ceiling, twenty-five feet up, proudly displaying the picture of a moonless night. Had she not known better, she would have thought it was a skylight instead of a painting. The carpet, as soft as a chinchilla's fur, is like resting upon a cloud. Should she have lied down upon its surface, it is sure that she would never have gotten up again. There would be no power in the universe that could induce the urge to move. The smell of books assaulted her nose, though there are none in sight. A deep breath; books and paper and ink, the smell of a library. _

_Then, in the middle of the room, in all its beauty, stood a concert grand piano. The ebony wood reflects the light of the stars painted upon the ceiling. The bench is cushioned and a raven haired male is perched upon it. The petals seem to be the perfect distance, as though it was made for the boy like a specially tailored suit. The sound emanating from the beauty was nothing less than life. It is the song of an angel, guarding him in his weakest moments. The cackle of the demon, waiting, watching for the time to steal his soul. The innocence of a child's laugh, the corruption of a sadist's smirk. The love of friends, the detestment of enemies. The gasp of an infant's first breath, the sob of the broken's last. It is life, death, and everything in between._

_This was Harry's favorite place to be, sitting upon the bench, the toes of one foot curled in the soft tufts of blackness, the other resting upon the petal, ready to press down. His fingers resting atop the keys, dancing with the grace of royalty. The melody, the song, the cackle, the laugh, the smirk, the love, the detestment, the gasp, the sob flowed through the room, through his body, through his veins, bringing him to life and killing him at the same time, the magic of it visible to anyone there to look. The desperation of the sound is not lost on Luna, but she says nothing. She is not allowed to talk within his music room, within his mind, his only safe haven. _

_She knew how to wake him now. Taking out her wand, she cast a silent recording charm and allowed the music to take her over. Eventually, she felt as though she had enough to wake him up and got up. Reluctant though she was to leave the melody, she walked to the doors that, as the opened, brought her back to her own body._

Luna's eyes opened, and she sat up to see many of the people who had previously attempted to wake Harry standing around the bed. Hermione opened her mouth to say something, before she caught the look in Luna's eyes and her jaw snapped shut with an audible click.

Slowly, Luna raised her wand and cast the repeating charm, the soft music began to play.

~o~

_Harry's playing had calmed once again, the softness was getting harder to hear over the rising crescendo of the other melody that seems to be thrumming through the room, the walls, roof, and flooring vibrating with the intensity of the song; even his own piano seemed to take on a mind of it's own and aid to the symphony. _

_This could not be happening. This was his room. Nobody was allowed to make noise in his room but him. It shouldn't even be possible. He needed to play. He had to play! He couldn't play over the other song!_

_HE HAD TO PLAY! _

_Without a second thought, jumped from the bench and raced across the room, before slamming the doors open with all of his might. _

Harry's eyes snapped open, though he didn't yet register his surroundings.

HE HAD TO PLAY!

He had to play!

He had to play..

He had to…

But he couldn't.

He couldn't play.

There was nothing for him to play.

There was no silence for him to play in.

The melody that had ruined his playing was still ringing through his head, beating through every inch of his body, his toes, to his legs, to his arms, to his fingers, to his-

And then it stopped. There was no more music. It just stopped. Everything was still. And then, a rustle.

Another started to bring him back to the world of the living, his eyes focusing on the glowing white ceiling of the infirmary. Slowly, Harry moved his head down slightly to see shimmering silver eyes staring back at him.

"Luna?" He croaked.

The face the eyes belonged to smiled. "Yes, Harry. It's me."

Harry returned the smile weakly. "Thank you. For saving me."


End file.
